Wrath of the Bloodeye, Page 3

  I nodded but I didn’t know how often I’d be able to manage it. The post wagon was expensive and letters cost money to send. The Spook didn’t usually give me money unless it was for a specific need, so I’d have to ask him and I didn’t know how he’d react. I decided to wait and see what sort of a mood he was in at breakfast.

  “That was one of the best breakfasts I’ve ever tasted,” I said, mopping up the last of my runny egg yolk with a large piece of bread. The bacon had been fried to perfection.

  The Spook smiled and nodded in agreement. “That it was,” he said. “Our compliments to the cook!”

  In response a faint purring could be heard from somewhere under the large wooden table, showing that the pet boggart appreciated our praise.

  “Could I borrow some money for my stay with Mr. Arkwright?” I asked. “I wouldn’t need very much. . . .”

  “Borrow?” asked the Spook, raising his eyebrows. “Borrow suggests that you intend to pay it back. That’s not a word you’ve used before when I’ve given you money for your needs.”

  “There’s money in Mam’s trunks,” I told him. “I could pay you back next time we visit Pendle.”

  My mam had returned to her homeland, Greece, to fight the rising power of the dark there. But she’d left me three trunks. As well as potions and books, one of them had contained three large bags of money, which were now safely stored in Malkin Tower, guarded by Mam’s two feral lamia sisters. In their domestic form lamias had the appearance of human females but for a line of yellow and green scales on their spines. However, these two sisters were in their wild state, with insectlike wings and sharp talons. They were strong and dangerous and could keep the Pendle witches at bay. I wasn’t sure when we’d be going back to Pendle, but I knew it would happen one day.

  “So you could,” replied the Spook in answer to my suggestion. “Is there anything special that you want money for?”

  “It’s just that I’d like to write to Alice each week—”

  “Letters are expensive, lad, and I’m sure your mam wouldn’t want you to fritter away the money she left you. Once a month will be more than adequate. And if you’re writing to the girl, you can send me a letter as well. Keep me informed about everything that’s going on and put both letters in the same envelope to keep the costs down.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Alice’s mouth tighten as she listened to what he said. We both knew that it wasn’t really the money that concerned him. He’d be able to read what I’d written to Alice and do the same with her letter once she’d replied. But what could I say? A letter a month was better than nothing so I’d just have to make the best of it.

  After breakfast the Spook took me to the small room where he kept his boots, cloaks, and staffs. “It’s about time I replaced that staff of yours that got burned, lad,” he told me. “Here, try this one for size.”

  He handed me one made from rowan wood, which would be very effective against witches. I lifted it and checked the balance. It was perfect. Then I noticed something else. There was a small recess near the top— the right size to accommodate my forefinger.

  “I think you know what that’s for!” exclaimed the Spook. “You’d best try it. See if it’s still in good working order.”

  I eased my finger into the recess and pressed. With a loud click a sharp blade sprang out of the other end. My previous staff hadn’t had a retractable blade—though I’d once borrowed the Spook’s, which did. But now I’d have my own.

  “Thanks,” I told him with a smile. “I’ll take good care of it!”

  “Aye, and better care than you took with the last one! Let’s hope you don’t have to use it, lad, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

  I nodded, then rested the point of the blade against the floor, exerted pressure and eased it back into its recess.

  Within the hour, the Spook had locked up the house and we were on our way. My master and I were each carrying our staffs but, as usual, I was carrying both bags. We were well wrapped up against the cold: he and I in our cloaks, Alice in her black woolen winter coat, its hood up to keep her ears warm. I even wore my sheepskin jacket—though in truth it wasn’t a bad morning at all. The air was crisp, but the sun was shining and it was good to be walking toward the fells heading north toward Caster.

  As we began to climb, Alice and I drew a little way ahead so that we could talk out of earshot. “It could be worse,” I told her. “If Mr. Gregory were planning to go to his winter house, you’d have to go with him and we’d be at opposite ends of the County.”

  Usually the Spook wintered at Anglezarke, far to the south, but he’d already told me that this year he’d remain in his more comfortable house in Chipenden. I’d just nodded and made no comment. I supposed it was because Meg Skelton, the love of his life, was no longer in Anglezarke and the house held too many painful memories. She and her sister, Marcia, were lamia witches and the Spook had been forced to send them back to Greece, even though it had broken his heart.

  “Ain’t telling me anything I don’t know already,” Alice said bitterly. “Still too far apart to visit each other, aren’t we, so what difference does it make? Anglezarke or Chipenden—still adds up to the same thing in the end!”

  “It’s no better for me, Alice. Do you think I want to spend the next six months with Arkwright? You should have read the letter he sent. He says he’s ill and doesn’t even want me there. He’s only taking me grudgingly as a favor to the Spook.”

  “And do you really think I want to be left at Chipenden with Old Gregory? He still doesn’t trust me and probably never will. Won’t ever let me forget what’s been an’ gone, will he?”

  “That’s not fair, Alice. He’s given you a home. And if he found out what you did that night, you’d lose that home forever and probably end up in a pit.”

  “I’m sick of telling you why I did it! Don’t be so ungrateful. Not in league with the dark and never will be—you can be sure of that. Once in a while I use what Lizzie taught me because I have no choice. I do it for you, Tom, to keep you safe. Nice if you could appreciate that,” she snapped, glancing behind to see that my master was still at a safe distance.

  We both lapsed into silence after that, and even the brightness of the morning couldn’t lift our mood. The day wore on as we trudged north. It was nearly a month beyond the autumn equinox and the daylight hours were shortening, with the long cold winter approaching. We were still descending the lower slopes east of Caster when the light began to fail, so we found ourselves a sheltered hollow to bed down in for the night. The Spook and I gathered wood and got a fire going while Alice caught and skinned a couple of rabbits. Soon they were spitting and hissing in the flames while my mouth began to water.

  “What’s it like to the far north of Caster?” I asked the Spook.

  We were sitting cross-legged before the fire while Alice turned the spit. I’d offered to help but she’d have none of it. She was hungry and wanted the rabbits cooked to perfection.

  “Well,” my master replied, “some say it’s got the best scenery in the whole County and I wouldn’t argue with that. There are mountains and lakes, with the sea to the south. To the very extreme north of the County there’s Coniston Lake and the Big Mere east of it—”

  “Is that where Mr. Arkwright lives?” I interrupted.

  “Nay, lad, not so far north as that. There’s a long canal that runs in a northerly direction, from Priestown through Caster and into Kendal. His house is on the west bank. It’s an old water mill fallen into disuse but it serves him well enough.”

  “What about the dark?” I asked. “Anything in that part of the County that I haven’t met before?”

  “You’re still green behind the ears, lad!” snapped the Spook. “There are plenty of things you’ve still to face and you don’t need to go north of Caster to find ’em! But what with the lakes and the canal, danger mostly comes from the water in those parts. Arkwright’s the expert on water witches and other creatures that make their h
omes in bog and slime. But I’ll let him tell you himself. It’ll be his job to train you for a while.”

  Alice continued to turn the spit while we sat staring into the flames. She was the one to break the silence and there was concern in her voice.

  “Ain’t happy that Tom’s going to be up here alone,” she said. “The Fiend’s in the world permanent now. What if he comes looking for Tom and we’re not around to help him?”

  “We must look on the bright side, girl,” the Spook replied. “Let’s not forget that the Fiend has visited this world many times before. It’s not the first time he’s been here.”

  “That’s true enough,” agreed Alice. “But apart from the first time, usually they were short visits. Some coven or witch would call him up. Lots of stories about that, there are, but most agree that Old Nick never stuck around for more than a few minutes at most. Just time enough to make a bargain or grant a wish in exchange for a soul. But this is different. He’s here to stay, with plenty of time to do exactly what he wants.”

  “Aye, girl, but no doubt the Fiend’ll be busy finding mischief of his own to carry out. Do you think he wanted to be bound to the will of the covens? Now that he’s free he’ll do what he pleases—not what they told him to do. He’ll be dividing families, turning husband against wife and son against father; placing greed and treachery in human hearts; emptying churches of their congregations; making food rot in the granary and cattle waste away and die. He’ll swell the savagery of war into a blood-tide and make soldiers forget their humanity. In short, he’ll be increasing the burden of human misery and making love and friendship wither like crops struck by the blight. Aye, it’s bad for everyone, but for now Tom’s probably as safe as anyone who follows our trade and fights the dark.”

  “What powers does he have?” I asked, feeling nervous with all this talk of the Devil. “Is there anything more you can tell me? What should I be most worried about if he does come looking for me?”

  The Spook stared at me hard, and for a moment I thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then he sighed and began to summarize the powers of the Fiend.

  “As you know, it’s said that he can take on any shape or size he likes. He may resort to trickery to get what he wants, appearing out of thin air and looking over your shoulder without you knowing it. At other times he leaves a calling card—the Devil’s mark, a series of cloven hoofprints burned into the ground. Why he does that is anyone’s guess, but it’s probably just to scare people. Some believe that his true shape is so appalling that one glance would kill you from sheer terror. But that might just be a story to scare children into saying their prayers.”

  “Well, the idea of it certainly scares me!” I said, glancing over my shoulder into the darkness of the hollow.

  “The Fiend’s greatest power, though,” continued my master, “is his ability to tamper with time. He can speed it up so that, to anyone in his vicinity, a week passes by in less than an hour. He can do the reverse, too: make a minute seem to last an eternity. Some say he can stop time altogether, but there are very few accounts of that happening. . . .”

  The Spook must have noticed my worried expression. He glanced sideways at Alice, who was staring at him wide-eyed.

  “Look, it’s no use worrying ourselves unnecessarily,” he said. “We’re all at risk now. And Bill Arkwright will be able to guard Tom just as well as I can.”

  Alice looked far from satisfied by the Spook’s words, but soon she shared out the rabbits and I was too busy eating to worry any more about it.

  “It’s a fine night,” said the Spook, looking upward.

  I nodded in agreement, still stuffing pieces of juicy rabbit into my mouth. The sky was bright with stars and the Milky Way was a gleaming silver curtain strung across the heavens.

  But by morning the weather had changed and a mist cloaked the hillside. It wasn’t a bad thing because we still had to skirt Caster. Within its ancient castle they tried witches before hanging them on a hill just outside the city. Some priests considered a spook and his apprentice to be enemies of the Church, so it wasn’t a place for us to linger.

  We passed the town to the east and strode onto the first northerly bridge over the canal just before ten. The mist hung heavily over the water and everything was silent. The canal was wider than I’d expected. Were it possible to walk on water, twenty strides would have been needed to cross from one bank to the other. The water, though, was still and murky, suggestive of depth. There wasn’t a breath of wind and the surface reflected back the arch of the bridge to form an oval, and when I looked down, I could see my own sad face staring back up at me.

  A cinder towpath ran parallel to each bank of the canal, bordered by a straggly hawthorn hedge on either side. A few forlorn, leafless trees draped their stark branches over the paths, and beyond them the fields rapidly disappeared into the mist.

  There was no sign of Arkwright. We waited patiently for almost an hour, the chill starting to eat into our bones, but still he didn’t turn up.

  “Something’s wrong,” the Spook said at last. “Arkwright has his faults, but tardiness was never one of them. I don’t like it! If he’s not here, then something has prevented him. Something beyond his control.”

  CHAPTER IV

  The Mill

  THE Spook had just decided that we should press on north toward Kendal when we heard muffled sounds approaching. They were the steady beat of hooves and the swish of water. Then, looming out of the mist, we saw two huge shire horses harnessed one behind the other. They were being led down the towpath by a man in a leather tunic and were pulling a long narrow barge behind them.

  As the barge passed underneath the bridge, I saw the man glance back up toward us. Then he brought the horses to a gradual halt, tethered them on the towpath, and walked up onto the wooden bridge with a steady, unhurried stride and a confident roll of his shoulders. He wasn’t a tall man but he was thick-set, with large hands, and despite the chill, underneath the leather jerkin the top two buttons of his shirt were open, revealing a thatch of brown hair.

  Most men would cross the road to avoid passing too close to a spook, but he smiled broadly, and to my astonishment, walked right up to my master and held out his hand. “I expect you’re Mr. Gregory.” The stranger beamed. “I’m Matthew Gilbert. Bill Arkwright asked me to collect the boy.”

  They shook hands, my master returning his smile. “I’m pleased to meet you too, Mr. Gilbert,” the Spook replied, “but isn’t he well enough to come himself?”

  “No, it’s not that, although he has been poorly,” Mr. Gilbert explained. “It’s just that they’ve found a body in the water—it had been drained of blood like the others. It’s the third in two months, and Bill’s gone north to investigate. Of late the dark seems to be rearing its ugly head more often and he’s been kept really busy.”

  The Spook nodded thoughtfully but didn’t comment. Instead he put his hand on my shoulder. “Well, this is Tom Ward. He expected to walk; no doubt he’ll be pleased to get himself a ride. . . .”

  Mr. Gilbert smiled and then shook my hand. “I’m very pleased to meet you, young Tom. But now I’ll let you say your good-byes in peace. So I’ll see you down there,” he said, nodding toward the barge and then making his way down.

  “Well, lad, don’t forget to write. You can send us a letter after the first week to let us know how you’ve settled in,” the Spook said, handing me a couple of small silver coins. “And here’s something for Bill Arkwright to help toward your keep.” And he placed a guinea in my hand. “I can’t see you having any problems. Just work as hard for Arkwright as you have for me and all should be well. For a while you’re going to have a different master with his own way of working and it’ll be your task to adapt to him—not the other way round. Keep your notebook up to date and write down everything he teaches you—even if it’s not quite the same as I’ve taught. It’s always good to have another perspective, and by now Arkwright is an expert on things that come out of the water. So liste
n well and be on your guard. The County’s a dangerous place at present. We all need to keep our wits about us!”

  With that the Spook gave me a nod and turned on his heel. Only when he’d left the bridge did Alice approach. She put her arms right round me and hugged me close.

  “Oh, Tom! Tom! I’ll miss you,” she said.

  “And I’ll miss you,” I replied, a lump coming to my throat.

  She pulled away and held me at arm’s length. “Take care of yourself, please. I couldn’t bear it if anything were to happen to you. . . .”

  “Nothing’s going to happen,” I said, trying to reassure her. “And I can look after myself. You should know that by now.”

  “Listen,” she said, looking quickly over her shoulder, “if you’re in trouble or you need to tell me something urgently, use a mirror!”

  Her words shocked me and I took a step backward. Witches employed mirrors to communicate, and I’d seen Alice use one once. The Spook would be horrified by what she was saying. Such practices belonged to the dark, and he would never approve of us communicating in that way.

  “Ain’t no cause to look at me like that, Tom,” Alice insisted. “All you have to do is place both hands against a mirror and think about me just as hard as you can. If it don’t work the first time, then keep trying.”

  “No, Alice, I’m not doing anything like that,” I told her angrily. “It’s something from the dark, and I’m here to fight it, not be part of it—”

  “Not that simple, Tom. Sometimes we need to fight the dark with the dark. Remember that, despite what Old Gregory might say. And be careful. Ain’t a good part of the County to be. I was up there once with Bony Lizzie and lived on the edge of the marsh not too far from Arkwright’s mill. So take care, please!’”

  I nodded, then impulsively leaned forward and kissed her on the left cheek. She drew back and I saw tears welling in her eyes. The parting was hard for both of us. Then she turned and ran from the bridge. Moments later she’d disappeared into the mist.